


Desperate Hound

by bromorashi



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anbu Hatake Kakashi, Desperation, Gen, Kinky, Omorashi, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bromorashi/pseuds/bromorashi
Summary: Anbu Hound struggles to get home before his uniform gets drenched.WARNING : 100% a kink fic. If you aren't into this, don't read.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 73





	Desperate Hound

A wave of urgency surges through his body, he crushes it mercilessly.

_Not now,_ he thinks, sending chakra to reinforce the offending muscles, _not yet_. Blue energy rolls and twists around his guts, burning between his legs, and he turns his focus back to the mission.

Not that there is much of a mission left anymore. As always, he had no trouble hunting down and disposing of his target. As always, he had ran home silently, hidden between the leaves of the Hashirama trees that surround Konoha. And now, as always, he's kneeling in front of the Anbu commander, his Hound mask secured around his face, his muscles spasming desperately inside his body, barely held together by pure will and the little chakra he still has to spare.

"The target has been eliminated," Hound says, his voice clear and confident, devoid of the urgency currently burning through his nerves, his brain. "No civilian casualties to report, no enemy encounter or confrontation."

For an Anbu mission, this one had been incredibly easy. He had swooped in and out of the palace, undetected, fast and deadly. However, the fact that it had been so quick was also the reason why he was currently in such agony. Preoccupied whis his goal, he didn't take the time for a break, too focused on getting the task done, then getting home to take even a second to stop and answer his body's cries. Food, sleep and other matters were put aside for a time, as he made his way back.

Hound is an Anbu, he has been trained to ignore the worst of pains and to make the hardest of choices. Hound is an Anbu and, even as he wants to hunch over, press his legs together, and grab himself with his hands, he ignores it all and sends more and more chakra to his bladder, to keep it strong, to keep it in control.

His commander is oblivious to his struggle, and he intends to keep it this way. He can vaguely understand that he's being asked to go home and get ready for further assignment (thankfully Anbu missions don't require any paperwork from him), and then, in the blink of an eye, he's left alone in the room. Alone, kneeling and absolutely desperate.

For a second, he wants to whine.

Hound swallows the whine back and, with it, every weakness that wants to break through his perfectly calm façade. Underneath his leather armor, his bladder is swollen, aching to be emptied, and only he can feel it.

He gets back on his feet, closes his eyes for a minute, tries to get himself back under control.

Almost against his will, his left hand wanders towards his crotch, fingers brushing against his pants, yearning to reach down and hold.

Goddammit, he's an Anbu, not a child, he can do this.

Hound tears his hand away from his genitals, cringing from the pain and pressure. He can feel waves and waves of piss crashing down against the barriers of his bladder. Chakra helps keep them sealed.

For now.

The way out of the Anbu headquarters is torturously long, a test of his patience and ability to keep his body language neutral. Thankfully, his face is hidden underneath his porcelain mask and he doesn't have to chase the frenzied desperation out of his eyes. What he does have to chase out, however, is the need to hunch down, press his knees together, cross his legs, hold himself, squat down, let himself go...

_-... pee_.

As he jumps out of the hidden building and lands into a tree, tall and dark, a spot of warmth, blessedly small, blossoms against his pants. One spurt has managed to fight its way through his clenched muscles, despite all his efforts, despite all his chakra.

What would Obito say, if he could see him like this?

(Probably laugh)

(Probably smile and help him out)

As fast as he can with his depleted chakra levels and spasming bladder, he jumps and runs across Konoha's roofs, trying not to let any of the few other ninjas patrolling at that hour notice just how desperate he is. Just how hard he is trying not to let himself give up, not to let himself-

A worldess, soundless cry escapes him as he breathes out sharply, urine jetting out of him unexpectedly, just as he's about to jump over yet another street, one close to his home. He immediately falls into a crouch, fingers finding his shaft to curl around it, pressing against his urethra, trying desperately to stop the flow.

Hot liquid drips on his hands but, with a lot of squeezing and clenching, he manages to stop himself, just barely. Panting, he lowers his head until his forehead touches the cold stone roof of the building. Drops of his pee are splattered between his feet, his underwear feels warm, his bladder is about to explode.

Hound is an Anbu, he can make it across the street.

He moves one hand away from his crotch, then the other. Utterly unable to help himself, he finds his legs crossing immediately, almost throwing off his balance, as he's still crouching. He tries to straighten up, legs still tightly crossed, bladder pulsing, trying to empty itself against his will.

He needs to jump, his flat is right there, just two streets over. In a few chakra infused steps, he'll be there. In less than a minute he could be standing in front of his toilet, letting out all of the liquid stuck inside his body.

The thought of relief finally pushes out the whine that he's been wanting to let out for now quite some time and, with it, comes a spurt of yet more pee, trickling down his thighs and leaving a dark, wet trail on the inside of his pants. Still, he's almost there.

He needs to jump.

He can do it.

He can do it.

He does it.

Once again, he loses control in the air, one, two, then three violent spurts of piss spraying into his now drenched underwear and he's so distracted by it that he almost forgets how to properly land, once he reaches the other side of the street. Thankfully, he manages to avoid breaking a bone and instead lands in a crouch, that quickly turns into kneeling and a lot, _lot_ , of franctic grabbing.

Come on, his flat is right there.

Hound closes his eyes and calls upon all of his seventeen years of experience, all of his time as a shinobi, as an Anbu. He grabs the few strands of chakra remaining in his body and focuses them all into his bladder, pushing the muscle to hold still.

Once he stops feeling as if he's one second away from turning the roof he's kneeling on into a small ocean, he very quickly straightens up and, for the last time, starts running.

He runs, jumps and vaults over obstaces until he's entering his apartment through the window, the Anbu-grade seals he's placed around it recognizing him and letting him in without a fight. Too desperate to properly think it through, he tumbles on the bed, his focus already waning and his penis twitching, not caring one bit that his crotch is currently right over his pillow. If his bladder could speak, it would be screaming at him that he can _not_ wait one more second.

To his utter horror, he feels his muscles give out completely, for a fraction of a second, a huge rush of pee gushing out of him and falling on top of his covers, then on the ground when he scrambles off the bed, holding himself tightly, trying his best to hobble over to the bathroom.

For every step he manages, he loses a spurt or two, and, every time he feels like he's about to give up, he's forced to stop and dance in place, bouncing, clutching and crossing his legs desperately. The front of his lower armor is drenched, hard leather shining and the fabric under it completely saturated. But still, he is so full of liquids.

He pushes his bathroom's door open with his shoulder and staggers his way to the toilet, barely keeping himself together as he does sp. He has succesfully taken off his mask on the way there, and is now panting, white hair a mess around his flushed face, and eyes wide open.

However, as he stands there, wet and desperate, he realizes that, although he did make it to his bathroom, there's no way he can use it properly. Not yet.

He's still wearing his Anbu armor.

A muffled cry comes out of his mouth as he rips his hand off his crotch and tries to tear off his armor. His movements are rushed, clumsy, his fingers slide uselessly on the leather, he can't think. He's so focused on getting the damn thing off that he doesn't notice he's starting to wet himself before the wet spot on his armor reaches the knees and there's a sizeable puddle between his feet. Once he does, however, he desperately bends down, legs crossed tightly, eyes closed and cheeks burning red.

Lost in his desperation, unable to stop the flow now that it has started, only to slow it down to spurts and dribles, he loses his balance and falls to his knees, then backwards, sitting down right in front of the puddle he just made.

The shock of falling and the brutal changes in position are just enough to push him over his limits. His bladder gives out almost instantly, pee exploding out of him, forming a large puddle around his still crossed legs. His hands, still clutched around his penis, are soaked but he can't bring himself to move one bit, eyes now wide open in disbelief. He's wetting himself. He's actually wetting himself.

_He's pissing into his Anbu armor_.

It takes a full minute for the loud hissing to turn into a softer, quieter dribble and it takes even longer for it to stop completely and for pee to stop dripping down his thighs. By the end of it he's exhausted and embarrassed, in a way he hasn't been since he was a kid, still Minato's apprentice. For one second he wishes his sensei could still be there, or even Kushina, both of them always knew how to comfort him.

But they weren't there.

They weren't there and he was alone, in a piss-soaked Anbu uniform, probably the only A-rank shinobi in existence unable to hold his pee in like a proper adult.

So, he picks himself up, side-steps the impressively sized puddle (how many liters did he drink over the past few days for it to get that big?) and slowly steps into his shower, already starting to feel sleepy.

He manages to stave off his sleepiness until the entirety of the bathroom has been cleaned up and he himself has changed into cleaner clothes and then he collapses into bed, noticing a bit to late that the covers still haven't properly dried off from when he entered through the window. However, by that point, he's too tired to care.

Hound closes his eyes and Kakashi falls asleep, forgetting his embarassment, burrying his face deeper into his pillows.

By the next morning, he'll be mortified, feeling like he had failed as a shinobi and as a man but, for now, he sleeps.


End file.
